After the Fall
by SirMandokarla
Summary: SWTOR: The Legacy. After escaping the Emperor's clutches, what hope is there for the man who hates the Empire beyond all reason?
1. Chapter 1

Caein Thema stared at his lightsaber, contemplating how quickly it could kill him.

Well, staring might not be the right word. More accurately, he felt the energy and position of the metal, crystal, and blade as the Force flowed through them. He'd found he could get away with saying it was hard to explain by asking anybody who asked what it was like to see. There was something very amusing about how inadequate Basic was for describing colour. Kira had spent many afternoons trying to find the exact words that would help Caein understand exactly what the colour blue was. She was stubborn like that.

The miralukan man sighed, his lightsaber hummed, and his ship did both. The Amaranthine Wake had taken him across the galaxy dozens of times, carried him through battles that struck the Empire vicious blows, and now gave him means to flee the greatest horror of his short life.

Caein's ship was one of his few prides, inextricably linked as it was to his piloting skills. It was like his lightsabers that way. Alone, they were just tools, not destructive in any way. In the right hands, put to the right purpose, they were veritable incarnations of death. Just like Caein himself had been, for the past few months.

Caein snorted. An undignified sound, uncharacteristic of a Jedi. He'd been an incarnation of death long before… what had happened. He'd just never cared, because his wrath had been pointed at those he considered monsters, enemies whose only purpose was to kill or be killed. Now, he'd seen the other side, so to speak.

Falling backwards onto his bed, lightsaber still held before him, Caein took a moment to envy other sapients. It wasn't the eyes that he envied. He didn't care much about sight. It was the idea of crying. He'd seen enough sapients cry to know what it was like. Their emotions welled up in them and seemed to gain physical form as the body let the feelings go. For some, it wasn't enough, and the tears would go on and on for ages, but for many it seemed that crying was a profound release. Knight Thema wished he could have something like that.

He didn't even try to stop the despair from overwhelming him. Better to accept it than live in the same fear he'd wallowed in until this day. What use was a fear of falling to the dark side when he'd already done so?

The lightsaber dropped to Caein's throat, so close he imagined he could feel the heat of it. All it would take was a slight relaxation of his grip, a moment's lapse or weakness, and Caein Thema, the Hero of Tython, Emperor's Puppet, would be no more. This same blade had killed dozens of Sith, would kill hundreds more, if Caein could live with himself.

Except, this same blade had also ended the lives of countless innocents. He could never absolve himself of that evil. He wasn't like Kira, who'd shaken off the Emperor's will before she could ever be forced to betray her values.

He envied her for that. Envied her so powerfully he ached with the pain of it, felt seared by the terror of the Dark Side it could lead him back to.

Caein sat up and extinguished his lightsaber, hiding it in the folds of his blankets as his door slid open.

"Cae, I can feel you moping from across the ship," Kira Carsen, his padawan, chided him as she walked in.

Caein nodded. "I am sorry, Kira," he said honestly. "I will try to dim my self."

Kira gave him an exasperated look. "Not what I meant, you big oaf."

In spite of himself, Caein smiled. "Is that any way to speak to your master?"

"You didn't kill Scourge," Kira said quietly, undeterred, as she sat down beside Caein. "You haven't accepted any Aegis missions or gone Sith-hunting in weeks. Cae, you can't pretend you're okay."

Caein took a while to reply and, for once, Kira didn't say anything to fill the silence.

"I fell," he finally said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. The words contained such an indescribable horror, he couldn't say any more.

"You weren't the only one, Cae," Kira whispered back. "Some of our order's greatest masters are still out there. We need your help to stop him. I think you're the only one who can."

"Why?" Caein's voice was bitter, and he stared into Kira's aura hopelessly, even as his head bowed low to the floor and his elbows dug into his knees in a hopeless slump. "You can't really think that, Kira. If I met him again… there's no reason he couldn't do exactly the same thing again. You don't understand how easy it was for him. A wave of his hand, and the power just… it was like drowning at the bottom of an ocean. Only, when I gave in, when it took my last breath, the nightmares were unimaginable."

He could see Kira's aura dim as her hope started to die. Of course it would. Caein Thema, Hero of Tython, the vanguard of every attack on the Sith, the fearless leader she'd followed across the galaxy, now nothing more than a broken man. What had Master Orgus been thinking, bringing him back?

"He won't," Kira said firmly, breaking her master from his morbid contemplation. He raised an eyebrow skeptically at her assertion. "You can beat it. Maybe not right now, but you can train. I know what it's like to have that man in your mind, Cae. I know what that ocean feels like, and I think you can beat it, just like I did."

"And then what," Caein asked, interrupting Kira's pep talk, "a Sith defeats the Emperor and starts another power struggle, eventually taking the throne for himself?"

"You're not a Sith," Kira said, putting a hand on Caein's shoulder. "You can't actually believe that. No matter what he made you do, you're not one of them."

She pulled him to face her, as if to look into his nonexistent eyes. "You're a good man, Caein. Brave and loyal. You might have scared me once in a while, but it was never because I thought you might turn on us, it was how much you wanted the Republic to win, how much you wanted to end the threat against all of us. I think sometimes even you forget that, in the end, what you're fighting for is to protect the people of the Republic. And we need you ready to do it again."

Again, Caein envied humans their ability to cry. There was a hopelessness to that plea, just as there was inside of him. And yet, he was needed. In spite of everything he'd done, all the innocent people he'd killed, how powerless he'd been… Kira still needed him, still believed the people of the Republic needed him.

There… might be a way he could prepare.

Caein picked up his lightsabers, ignoring the look Kira gave him when he retrieved the first from under his blankets, and stood. With a solemn word of thanks, he walked towards the main area of the ship.

"What are you going to do?"

He stopped for a second, doing Kira the courtesy of turning to face her, focusing more on her presence than those of the ship's other denizens, against all miralukan combat protocol.

"I'm going to kill Lord Scourge," he said with a bitter smile. "And if that doesn't work, I'll try again later."

Then he went to find the only person who could help him train to fight the Emperor.


	2. Chapter 2

13 ATC

In the span before the Emperor could flinch, Caein took his enemy's lightsaber and cut through His chest.

It did not have the expected effect.

The Emperor fell, and for a moment it even seemed that his spark would go out. Then He exploded, filling the entire room and blinding Caein completely. The Jedi cried out, swinging the Emperor's saber wildly all around him.

Jedi = won, T7 beeped, slowing Caein's struggles. Why still fighting?

[IF I MUST DIE, EVERYTHING DIES WITH ME.]

A rumbling filled the room, and Caein heard stalactites crashing down from the ceiling.

"Cae?" Kira's voice, tinny and filled with static. "Caein, what's going on in there? It looks like the temple is coming down."

Caein stumbled towards the sound of T7's whistling, nearly falling twice on the newly-shattered ground.

T7 = can't move/ Jedi = can't see?

"The Emperor's everywhere, T7," Caein yelled over the temple's rumbling. He started patting around on the floor until he found the droid's body. "I'm going to need you to be my eyes."

He reached down and, pouring the Force into his limbs, lifted the little astromech from the floor.

T7 = too heavy, T7 whistled frantically, T7 – treads = lighter.

"Just tell me where to go, T7," Caein grunted, standing straight under the burden.

Jedi = too brave, T7 beeped in frustration. Then, 23 degrees right + 17 meters forward = exit.

They made it ten meters before T7's shrill whistle helped Caein dodge a falling stalactite. Heart racing, Caein nodded. "I think we're going to be alright, little buddy."

Then the rumbling intensified.

Temple = coming down / Jedi + T7 = must hurry!

And so Caein ran, listening only for T7's instructions and any rumblings directly in his path. The stairs were especially tricky, but T7's instructions were very precise.

113 stairs = 28 cm run + 18 cm rise each!

So Caein all but tumbled down the stairs, placing his feet exactly in the middle of each second step. Once, the rumbling threw him off balance, but he slammed into the spiral staircase's outer wall and suffered no more than a skinned shoulder.

The way out after the stairs should have been easy. The worst was two pillars that had already fallen in the shaking – now a thundering roar – which he leaped over with relative ease. T7 managed to warn him of rubble on the other side of the second one, so he only suffered a twisted ankle and not a broken leg.

Then came the end of the world.

It wasn't particularly sudden, but T7 squealed, Jedi = RUN, and they were off, ignoring everything except getting to the exit as fast as possible. The dust was choking and the sound deafening. Caein couldn't hear T7's instructions anymore. He just hoped that he had the right direction.

He tripped, but managed to hold onto T7 and handspring back to his feet, busted toes notwithstanding.

A wave of dust warned him too late of the wall caving in before him. He tried to stop and weave around, but he didn't know which direction to go, and the indecision cost him. T7's weight carried them both into the collapsed roof, they bounced off, then the rest of the ceiling came down.

The last thing he heard was T7's scream.

Caein regained consciousness at the next rumbling, and the pain was excruciating.

He didn't bother to check his arm, which he couldn't feel anymore. Whatever it was, Master Azeel would fix it back on Tython. All he had to do was get out.

"T7?"

Nothing.

He gave a mighty heave with the Force, giving him enough space to paw around in front of him.

What was left of T7 was embedded in his arm and the floor.

Again, Caein brought the Force to bear, tearing the little droid apart and feeling around inside him.

There. A box no bigger than two fists. T7's brain. All was not lost. His arm, T7's body, it could all be fixed. They just needed to get out.

The Knight ignored the headache of the Emperor's power and pushed with all the might of the Force, shifting the roof just enough to crawl out.

Then he was up again, leaping instead of running over the rubble, focusing only on the next step, hoping beyond hope he was heading in the right direction.

By the time he got far enough away from the temple for his vision to start clearing, Caein was a mass of scrapes and bruises powered exclusively by willpower and the Force. He'd completely given up getting his muscles to respond properly at that point.

Then he saw the shuttle.

With one last burst of speed, he crossed the clearing and hurtled onto the ship, to the surprised cry of Kira.

"Cae! You made it! Where's T7?"

Caein held out his working hand with the box in it.

Kira only nodded and said, "he liked that chassis. Now get up. We're not out of here yet."

To say the injured Jedi stumbled to his feet would be generous. He looked as graceful as a Hutt that had just grown legs.

Then he caught sight of the inside of the ship.

Doc was frantically working on Sergeant Rusk, whose spark was barely there. Kira was at the shuttle's controls, already pulling the throttle to get back to their ship.

Then Doc caught sight of Caein.

"No. Nonononono. Oh, no." Doc looked back and forth between the soldier and the Jedi.

"You," he barked at Caein, already getting out several syringes full of kolto, "seated, doing that meditating thing, NOW."

The Jedi obediently took a seat and began concentrating on fixing his injuries.

Oh.

Everything was bleeding. How about that? And his arm was basically powder and mulch. Master Azeel wouldn't be happy about that. Maybe she could help him with the concussion, too, while she was at it. The lightsaber burns, he might keep. Caein finally understood why the little mirialan kept all those scars on her face. Some memories mattered more than appearances.

Doc injected two syringes into Caein's neck, then one into each of his available limbs.

"Knight Thema," came a quiet voice, nothing like the Sergeant's usual crisp tone.

"Shut up, Rusk," Doc ordered, fiddling around inside a massive wound in the soldier's torso. "I need you focusing on getting through this, buddy."

Sergeant Rusk coughed and barely managed to shake his head. "I've seen enough… death to know you can't do anything, Doc."

"I don't need to," Doc argued. "I just need you both to last until we make it to the fleet. They'll have Jedi healers there, I'll just let them work their magic."

Slowly, Rusk turned his head to look at Caein.

"I'm fine," the Jedi lied.

'Fine' as in dying. Even chances of making it back to the fleet in time to see a healer who could keep him stabilized long enough to reach the one person in the galaxy who could actually fix him.

"Force is… pretty strong stuff," Rusk coughed, ignoring Doc's cursing and the hands inside his exposed ribs. "The Emperor… is dead, then?"

"I swear, if you don't shut up, I _will_ sedate you," Doc threatened.

Caein Thema considered that for a second. Technically… "I put a lightsaber through most of his chest, so I hope so," he nodded.

Rusk gave the smallest smile. One of the first Caein had ever seen on the man. It was faint. The Sergeant was barely lighting up his own body now.

"Mission accomplished," growled the Sergeant. Then he said to Doc, "he's going to die without your help."

"I'm doing the best I can," Doc growled, moving from one injury to the next. "Look, Jedi, just look after yourself for a bit, ok? I think I can still save Rusk, I just- just hang in there a bit, ok?"

What an odd thing to say. Caein felt fine. He was dying a little bit, sure, but other than that he was doing alright. What were the two soldiers so concerned about?

The Jedi took another look at himself.

Oh.

He focused, and the Force started flowing again. The moment he took his mind off it, it tried to stop again. Caein was literally staying alive through sheer force of will.

The Jedi Sentinel looked at Doc, the picture of health. The Force didn't flow through him in the quantities it might for a Force-user, but it caressed him as it would any living thing. Doc generated it, as he should, as all life did.

Caein had to focus on Sergeant Rusk to see the Force he generated. It had stopped flowing through the chagrian man, started pooling within him, so that his body looked like the walls of the shuttle. Sergeant Fideltin Rusk required a miracle.

Caein almost stood up, ready to try his hand at healing for the very first time, but his body wouldn't move.

That made sense. He looked just like Rusk, except that the Force still flowed through the Jedi's body. It was an effort of will to make it so, but it was keeping him alive.

Again, he tried to stand, or to reach out with the Force and kickstart Rusk's body. There had to be a way. The Jedi healers always made it look so easy. But every time Caein took his mind off his own body, the world started to fade and the Force started to still within him.

So he watched helplessly as Sergeant Fideltin Rusk gave his very last breath, and the Force stilled within the soldier forever. Knight Caein Thema watched, and knew that it had been his decision to leave his friend to die.

"Those who fought so valiantly for the Republic, and for the entire galaxy, will live forever as heroes," decreed the Grandmaster.

"Jedi Knight Kira Carsen."

Kira walked a bit slower than usual, a bit more subdued than natural. It was only a few steps up to Admiral Dabrin, but it was noticeable. She gave no smile to the Grandmaster or to Caein himself. She just received her Cross of Glory, the highest honour the Republic could give her, in stoic silence. Then she returned to her place in line with only a slight bow.

"Doctor Archiban Kimble."

That got a smile out of Kira, even if it was just for a moment. Watching Doc walk up to receive his medal, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity after having his name revealed to the galaxy, was almost funny. It would have been, if Caein didn't know where the droop in Doc's shoulders, the slight dimming of his spark, stemmed from.

Doc returned to his place without any of his usual grandstanding.

"T7-O1."

Caein stepped forward with the blackbox in his working hand. He tried to crack a smile as the Admiral placed a Cross of Glory atop T7's unconscious mind.

"He's going to be so surprised when he wakes up," Caein said. It might have been his imagination, but Grandmaster Satele looked like she almost smiled.

"Jedi Knight Caein Thema," she said before he could return to his position in line.

Caein raised his head and stood just a little straighter. One hand held T7 and the little droid's medal, the other was in a cast that held it together as much as in place, so Caein stepped forward to let the Admiral pin the medal directly to his robes.

Then he stepped back, and let the end of the ceremony commence.

"There are two more who deserve to be honoured," the Grandmaster declared to the assembly, "two who gave their lives in service to our Republic, so that we might rid the galaxy of the greatest threat it has ever faced."

Caein looked on with suspicion. What did she mean, two?

Admiral Darbin stepped forward to the edge of the dais, looking out across the crowds on either side of the ship, and named, "Sergeant First Class Fideltin Rusk."

Doors at the end of the room opened, and a coffin hovered in, guided by half a dozen Republic soldiers. Caein watched, almost numb, as it slowly made its way across the room, until he, Kira, and Doc had to move aside so that it could take its place beside him.

Doc's fists were clenched tight, and Kira refused to look at the box holding a man she'd never honestly been fond of, but a man who'd risked his life for her countless times regardless. Had risked it, in fact, one last time on Dromund Kaas.

Caein looked straight at the body that had once held his friend. He refused to flinch from this part of the ceremony. This was his doing, and his responsibility.

"Sergeant Rusk was an excellent soldier who fought for the Republic until his dying breath," said Admiral Darbin. "He was a great man whose loyalty was unquestionable and whose skill was unsurpassed. The Republic, and the Republic Military, will be lesser things without him."

The coffin moved forward slightly, just enough for Admiral Darbin to place the Sergeant's Cross of Glory atop his last vessel.

Caein stepped forward.

"I'd like to say something," he said quietly.

When the admiral seemed to hesitate, Caein added, "for my friend."

Admiral Darbin stepped aside, and Caein Thema stepped up onto the dais again. He turned to face the crowd, which had now gone very silent.

"Rusk died because of me," Caein admitted to the entire crew of the Valiant. He held out a hand to Kira, halting her step forward. "I sent him on a mission no Force-bl- Nobody less than a Jedi Master should ever have been given. And he performed admirably, and got his people out alive."

Caein stood tall and cried out, "he accomplished his mission, and he would say that there was no greater honour. This ceremony is for you, not him. He would want to be out there right now, saving the Republic one more Imperial casualty at a time. But I saw his spark leave his body, and I know he is out there somewhere, a part of the Force again."

The crowd stirred. Caein raised a sinister lightsaber in front of himself, feeling a chill as his power touched the remnants of a great darkness.

"This is the Emperor's lightsaber," he said, raising it high into the air above him. "And Sergeant Rusk would say I should use it to fight the Imperials, but he never understood the Force or what something like this carries with it. There are a lot of things he didn't know. He didn't know his spark would carry on after he died fighting my battles. He died thinking that was the end for him."

Slowly, the lightsaber settled into position beside the Cross of Glory on Sergeant Rusk's coffin.

"I aspire to that kind of courage," Caein murmured into the silence.

Then he stepped down from the dais and walked past the soldiers who stood watching him, out of the room.

Kira came through the door behind him seconds later. He'd been so focused on getting out of the ceremonial chamber he hadn't even noticed her following him.

"You couldn't have waited a second, Cae," Kira complained, closing the door and leaning backwards against it. "I had to scramble after your grand exit in the middle of Grandmaster Satele trying to find a way to honour Sco-"

"Kira," Caein warned.

Kira shut up, then changed topics. Pulling away from the door, she walked up to her former master. "Look, Cae, I need to get something off my chest."

Caein peered into the ceremony room, then into the corridors around them. "Alright," he said, "walk with me."

Kira fell into easy step beside him and, after few seconds, started talking. "It's Sergeant Rusk," she said. Then she reconsidered. "No, I think it's a lot more than that. It's everything this last year, with the Emperor and all the Dark Council members and this constant war..."

Caein waited while Kira gathered her thoughts, deftly leading them through deserted corridor after deserted corridor.

"I think Rusk was just the last thing," Kira finally admitted. "Because it was my fault."

"No," Caein interrupted. Kira looked up and he repeated, "no, Sergeant Rusk's death wasn't your fault. It was mine. My mission, my call that got him killed. I should have been there."

Kira shook her head, holding back tears. "I wish I could believe that," she whispered.

"You can believe this," Caein insisted. "The Emp-"

"I'm leaving," Kira blurted out.

Caein stopped so fast Kira had to turn around to face him. He didn't say anything.

"I have to get away for a while, Cae," she said more hesitantly. "Away from this war and all the death, and constantly fighting for our lives against overwhelming odds. I used to think I could do this forever, but we never seem to get a break. So I'm taking one. I know you won't ever stop, so… I'm leaving."

Caein only heard the last words because he knew they were coming.

He nodded. He'd seen the pain Kira went through, trying to keep a half-mad Jedi Knight just this side of grey. He couldn't blame her leaving on anything but his own fervour.

And the worst part? Caein didn't see any way to change it. If he were to be completely honest with himself, if he were to go back to the moment he made the decision to send Rusk to his death, knowing what he knew now… he might make the decision again.

"You're a good jedi, Kira," he said finally. "And a strong person. If this is what you need, then go. I'll still be here when you get back, if that's what you want."

Kira nodded, then pulled him into a hug. Caein stood for a second, dumbfounded at the show of affection.

"C'mon," Kira grumbled into his shoulder, "you're making this awkward."

Caein let himself relax just a bit and put his working arm around his best friend.

After a few seconds, Kira pulled back, forcing a smile. "You know, that wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

Caein forced a smile, too.

Then Kira walked past him, making her way to their ship to pack. Caein watched her go, tracking her movement across the Valiant until she finally reached the Amaranthine Wake.

"Knight Thema."

Caein was in a combat stance before he remembered he didn't have a lightsaber anymore. He stood straight again, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Something on your mind, Thema," Satele Shan asked.

Caein nodded, but didn't elaborate.

"I suppose this is as good a place as any to talk, if you like," the Grandmaster offered.

"This is fine," Caein said, leaning against a wall. Grandmaster Shan moved to join him.

"I had a speech prepared," she confessed, "for your triumphant return. A message, too. Neither went the way the Jedi Council imagined, I am sure. You understand what a risk the Council thought it was taking, allowing you to face the Emperor again?"

"My mental defenses were designed by the Emperor's Wrath," Caein protested, for a moment forgetting he was talking to the Grandmaster of his order.

Satele Shan took it in stride, raising a hand slightly and saying, "that was not what had us worried, Thema."

She gave him a second or two to calm down, then continued, "you've always walked a fine line between inspiring hope and causing fear, and even finer line between light and dark. Ever since your first experience with the Emperor, it's only been worse. I can feel your anger consume you. Your desire to save those around you has become a distant second to your need for revenge, and I can ignore it no longer."

It was an effort of will, but Caein chose not to take those words as a threat. Besides, if they were, would they be undeserved?

"After a great deal of deliberation, the Council has decided that making you a Jedi Master is too much of a risk."

Caein nodded his agreement.

"However."

Caein froze. However?

"There are some on the Council who insisted you be given a chance. Knight Carsen, in particular, expressed her faith in you during our correspondence. Therefore, I am granting you the position of Blademaster of the Jedi Order. None who have seen your skills would argue that you don't deserve it."

"Grandmaster," Caein said, "I don't understand."

"The role of Blademaster is an instructive one, Knight Thema," the Grandmaster explained. "Some on the Council expressed a hope that you would take to teaching at the academy on Tython as readily as you did for your own padawan."

In spite of himself, Caein smiled. "I'd heard Master Azeel had joined the Jedi Council."

Grandmaster Shan ignored the comment. "Your stance on the war is well known, Thema, and you will have the title whether or not you choose to teach on Tython. I think you know what this choice will mean, however."

"Yes, Grandmaster Satele."

Satele nodded and turned to leave. The hallway was started to fill with soldiers and crew leaving the ceremony hall.

"You don't need to decide right away," she assured him. "May the Force be with you, Blademaster Thema."

"And also with you, Grandmaster Shan," Caein replied. They both bowed, and she left him to his thoughts.

The miralukan expanded his senses, taking in every soldier on the ship, returning to their stations or bunks after the ceremony. He watched Grandmaster Satele heading towards her personal shuttle, Kira choosing whether or not to leave a nasty surprise in Doc's bunk, Doc standing solemnly over the coffin of the friend neither of them had been able to save.

He thought of the soldiers on the Valiant, and of the Imperials and Sith. He thought of the Jedi padawans and knights, even the masters who still had so much to learn about lightsaber combat. He thought of the rumours he'd heard, even on Corellia, of new battlefronts opening up across the galaxy. He thought of the Emperor, and how He had continued on even after His body had been destroyed. He thought of the joy he got, dancing with a partner amid the energies lightsabers released into the Force.

Caein Thema sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," said the Blademaster of the Jedi Order.


End file.
